


Elven Blue

by Evren



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, But not until part 2, Cassandra & Josephine play matchmaker, Eventual Smut, F/M, Prophetic Magic, Spoilers, Their first time, smut with feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 09:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6001099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evren/pseuds/Evren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Evin Lavellan loves a man she knows will break her heart and disappear. But she can't stop thinking about her apostate... his eyes, his lips, his heated kiss. She reaches for the flame about to burn her....</p><p>This is a three-part Solasmance in honor of Valentine's Day! A couple's first night thanks to a push from some well-meaning friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elven Blue

Inquisitor Lavellan returned to Skyhold with a king's ransom in gold, a dragon's skull, and a terrific need for a bath. A team of sturdy mountain-bred ponies lugged the groaning treasure wagon up the last steep byway to the keep. The Inquisitor walked in front. Evin Lavellan was well aware of her role: a target for the cheering. In a world torn apart by war and demons, hope was one of the most important things an Inquisitor could supply. Just now, however, she was foot-sore, sweaty, and... a little frustrated.

The problem wasn't her companions. They strolled along behind her, shaded from the afternoon sun by the wagon, passing around a flask of dwarf spirits and exchanging easy jokes. In an hour or so they'd all arrive at Skyhold. Evin could picture Josephine and Cullen's jubilation. A dragon dead, a new political alliance, chests filled with gold to buy needed supplies. Why, then, did she feel so dispirited? Lost, almost. Like she missed something she'd never truly found.

As a leader Evin had never been very demonstrative. Her style was thoughtful and direct. Dynamic, but introspective. It didn't take her very long to realize the source of her unhappiness.

She'd seen the calendar this morning. Eluviesta. Spring. 

In less than a hundred days Solas would leave.

He hadn't told her what he was planning, but she knew it would happen—just as she knew other things would happen, the product of foresight she channeled through the Mark. If only she could skip past the next twelve hours, the next twelve weeks, as quickly as she could in the Fade. 

She loved Solas—she thought she did—and he'd said he loved her. Just not enough to stay or tell her why. Thinking about it now Evin felt more and more alone. It wasn't an unusual emotion for her—she concealed her knowledge of the future from even her closest friends. But as the overloaded wagon reached the gates of Skyhold, as a congratulatory crowd gathered to cheer, the heartache was almost more than she could bear.

"That was well done, Inquisitor," Cullen shouted, while the others crowded in. 

Evin beckoned them round and laughed at their jokes and promised to tell them about the dragon. This too was the Inquisitor's role. No one cared about something that hadn't happened yet. It was her job to worry about such things. Evin's ill-fated love life wasn't going to interfere with what her people needed. Even if it strangled her.

After the first few oppressive moments Evin caught Josephine's eye and slipped away. She changed out of her traveling clothes and cleaned up a little. When she rejoined the celebration in the upper courtyard she felt more like herself. A little bemused but quiet, all too aware of a future she couldn't avoid.

Everyone was in a blighted uproar about the dragon. It might have been irritating if she hadn't understood the fear behind it. Before she'd left Crestwood most of the poor creature's corpse had been divvied up for parts. The local baron had claimed its right foot—for a tea table, he'd said. The village's new mayor walked off with a tablecloth-sized segment of hide. Inquisition agents were already hawking the remaining scraps and organs from one corner of Ferelden to the other, to be picked over by mages, alchemists, and armorers. Evin had offered the skull to the royal couple by courier—the polite thing for a dragon hunter to do, it seemed—but to Evin's immense relief they'd demurred. _Already got one_ , came the terse reply. And so the skull returned with them to Skyhold, fated to impress visitors and collect dust in the War Room. Evin _refused_ to make a throne out of it.

The Inquisition celebrated victory before an enormous bonfire in the upper courtyard. Under the flickering light the skull looked enormous and black, full of malicious fangs and mysterious crevices. With the flesh removed it seemed almost a crafted thing, unconnected with any living being.

The dragon would have killed Evin and her companions. That it failed was not for lack of trying. An ill-timed swipe of its spiked tail almost crushed her— _had_ crushed her in some futures. The dragon spat crackling balls of energy at Bull. It summoned dragonlings to fight them. At the very end, as Evin wrested her last exhausted spell from the Fade and hurled it at the creature, its claws had dug into the earth. She recalled the image now—like withered fingers grasping soil, a final gesture of anguish as the creature screamed and died. The passing of a beast that approached greatness.

These were things Evin couldn't say aloud. The leader of the Inquisition couldn't have regrets about killing dragons. The people wanted a hero, not a woman with doubts and fears.

She only knew one person who might listen with an open mind, who valued her questions as much as she enjoyed his stories. Solas never judged her for being a person. He didn't need her to be certain. For him the role was just a role. But it was dangerous to think about that now—a reminder of pain she wanted to avoid.

After the moon rose and supper was served on trestles a contingent of visiting nobles came over to greet her. The evening wore on, she said appropriate things, and while she kept to her usual demeanor, after a while she noticed her friends catching each others' eyes and making shooing motions behind her back. 

"Why don't you get some rest, Inquisitor?" Josephine Montilyet asked.

"I wouldn't like to miss the company of our guests," Evin said, nodding at the representative from Orlais. 

"There will be time for everything tomorrow," Josephine suggested. 

Trade routes through the Frostbacks didn't build themselves. Josephine knew it as well as Evin did, so why did she want to delay? Evin wondered if she'd said or done something wrong without realizing it. She kept thinking of things she shouldn't—hands grasping earth—a person who wasn't there. A face she kept looking for in the crowd, though he hated crowds. 

Evin smiled and sent for more wine, and that was the end of that. A little while later, though, the Orlesian noble wandered away, and Evin found herself confronted by two of her friends.

"Inquisitor, I must confess I am a bit surprised," Josephine said. "Do you intend to stay?"

Evin felt a little bewildered. "Where else would I go?"

"We thought you might want to see Solas," Cassandra said hesitantly.

"It has been four weeks since you left, has it not?" Josephine said.

Evin's gaze swept the faces around the bonfire. "I don't think he's here."

Cassandra and Josephine exchanged determined glances. Josephine hooked an arm around the Inquisitor's elbow. Together the ladies pulled her aside.

Evin felt dismayed at their identical, serious faces. But it couldn't be anything _truly_ alarming, could it? Or—had there been an unlikely accident, something difficult to predict? They would have told her sooner. Wouldn't they?

"Is something wrong?" Evin asked. 

"Then you haven't heard," Josephine said. Her voice was suddenly determined, as though she'd come to a decision.

"About what?" Evin asked. 

"Solas. You should see him. Tonight," Cassandra said.

"We're surprised you waited this long," Josephine said.

Another dart of fear pricked at Evin. "Has something happened?" she asked. That wasn't possible, was it? Nothing life-threatening. Some sort of illness? "Is he unwell?"

"In a manner of speaking," Josephine said. "He refuses to speak to anyone."

"When he does he's... surly. Short-tempered. Insufferable," said Cassandra.

Evin relaxed a bit. "Well, that's not unusual."

"He's been holed up in the rotunda for days," Josephine said.

"That's also rather normal—"

"There's more," Cassandra said ominously. "At breakfast the other day I asked if he knew any stories about the Fade. _He said no._ "

"I see what you mean," Evin said with a distracted frown.

"To be honest with you, I'm uncertain whether the apostate has eaten in several days. The kitchen sent up a tray of iced Orlesian cakes to tempt him. He didn't eat a single one," Josephine said.

"What?" Evin gasped. "No!"

"I saw it with my own eyes, Inquisitor. They were completely untouched," Cassandra said.

"What do you think could be wrong?"

The two women exchanged somber glances. "We think—"

"We think he misses you."

Heat flooded Evin's cheeks. And tremendous, mortified embarrassment. Her mouth opened, then closed. She stared at her friends until she was able to speak. "You two are the worst. I was actually worried!"

Cassandra gave her a smile. "You had better see him, Inquisitor. Before he starts growling at everyone."

When the Inquisitor had departed—looking preoccupied and perhaps a bit flushed—the two women exchanged a look of grim commiseration, as of two warriors exhausted by a long and grinding siege. 

"Ugh. Those two are hopeless," Cassandra said.

"They need so much help. Thank goodness we're here," Josephine said. She lifted her wine glass.

"To true love," the Seeker said, copying the gesture. 

"And progress," the Ambassador replied. "Whether they like it or not."

Their glasses clinked.

"I'm hoping for an August wedding," Cassandra said.

"Really? I was thinking earlier. We'll have the ceremony in the Chantry garden, under the trellis."

"Ah, yes. The roses are lovely that time of year."

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2 should be up in a day or so :)


End file.
